


Music Box Carousel

by Alternatewarning



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Bullying, Child Neglect, Didn't have time to edit this one so here's hoping, Fat Shaming, Gen, Prompto just never gets a break, kids are mean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 09:33:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26849719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alternatewarning/pseuds/Alternatewarning
Summary: It was just a normal day at elementary school for Prompto: some name-calling, bullying, losing his lunch, and wondering why on Eos his life sucks so much.Whumptober 2020 entry: Numbers 6 and 8 - "Stop, please” and Abandoned / Isolation
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Music Box Carousel

“Come on, hand over your lunch. You clearly don’t need it~” The group of four boys laughed, the one in front holding out his hand. Prompto tried to take a step back; they had already backed him into a corner, nothing to save him but the quiet stretch of an empty school hallway. Everyone was in their classrooms or at the store getting snacks so he had to either hand over his food or hope that a teacher came and bailed him out. The leader, Prompto couldn’t remember his name since he was one grade up but pretty much everyone knew him as the school bully, seemed to be losing his patience.

“Come on fatso, hurry up. What are you dumb too? Give. Me. Your. Lunch. Or else I’ll beat you up.” His outstretched hand turned into a fist as he stepped towards the blond. Prompto looked down at the bag in his hand. He liked the green curry bento but it wasn’t worth getting beat up. Plus, they would probably smash his glasses and he needed those. Slowly he held out his convenience store bag and they took it with a smirk.

“Good boy~ You’re going to give me your lunch tomorrow too, right? And something not so gross. Curry, really? Buy me some good bread and milk. See you tomorrow!” The group laughed as they walked to their classroom, letting Prompto slowly slide down the wall that his back had been pressed against. His heart was thudding in his chest. He needed to fight back but he knew it would be hopeless, why bother?

By the end of the school day, Prompto felt like he was starving. His lunch had been taken away and his money to get dinner had been in the same bag. Which meant he was going home with nothing, no lunch, no dinner, and no snack. His stomach grumbled unhappily as he got his bag ready to go home. Maybe if he just didn’t think about it, it would be fine.

The entire way home all he could think about was how hungry he was. He passed by his favorite fast food joint and it smelled like heaven. But the coins he fished out of his pockets weren't even enough for a drink. With a heavy sigh, he turned the corner to keep walking home, his stomach gurgling again at the whiff of food. Prompto was so focused on the ground at his feet that he didn’t notice anyone in front of him until he literally walked headfirst into another body. He let out a small yelp as he fell back, partially in shock and partially because whoever he’d walked into too shoved his shoulders.

“Why’d you tell on me?!” Prompto adjusted his glasses to see the group of four from before. But now they were a whole lot angrier.

“Wha-what are you talking about?” He blinked up at the boys as he tried to stutter out an apology. “I'm sorry but I didn’t tell anyone, I promise.” Maybe a teacher had seen them take his lunch?

“Shut up you freak!” One of the boys rushed forward and kicked Prompto in the gut, knocking him down on his back. They were in an ally between the fast-food restaurant and a side street that most people didn’t use during the day, there was no one to see them.

“You tattled on us and now we’re in trouble. It’s your fault! If you weren’t so shy and fat we wouldn’t have taken anything from you!” Another kick connected with the blond who decided that even if he tried to run it would be pointless. There were four of them and one of him and at least two he knew were on the soccer team. So instead he just curled up as much as he could, using his arms to protect his face.

“I’m sorry, stop, please! I never told anybody!” He shrieked in between grunts as all four boys circled around him and started to kick. At first, it seemed like they were just trying to get out their anger and maybe that was okay. If they kicked him now then tomorrow maybe they would leave him alone. But as they kept going they weren’t calming down. Instead, it felt like they were starting to kick harder.

“Please! Stop, please! It hurts…” One of the boys nailed him in the back so hard that he fell forward, hitting his chin on the pavement. Since now he was on his stomach he pulled up his arms to cover his face. The kicking changed to stomping, sneakers slamming into his back over and over. No matter how much Prompto screamed or told them he hadn’t spoken to anyone, it didn’t stop. Eventually, the four seemed to tire, giving a few more good kicks to his ribs, before moving on in silence. He waited on the pavement, waiting to hear them coming back. 

After what felt like an eternity he opened his eyes, his vision blurry. Huh? He blinked a few more times before realizing that his glasses had skidded across the ground and were now lying against the wall of the alley. It probably happened when he was kicked to the ground. Slowly he forced himself to his knees, his body stiff and sore. He felt like they’d kicked or stepped on every inch of his body from his fingers to his back to his toes. He managed to crawl over to his glasses, dirty but unharmed, before putting them on. The world was now marred by specks of dirt and gravel but at least he could see.

After another few minutes just sitting on the ground to recover, Prompto collected himself enough to go home. It wouldn’t hurt any less at home and then he could take a shower and cry. For a moment he hoped that his foster parents weren’t home but then he just sighed. There was no reason to hope for something that he knew would be true.

The rest of the walk home was fortunately uneventful, the streets empty of passersby, and anyone that did see him didn’t even ask if he was okay. Maybe it was better this way. When he reached his house there was a letter on the table. Before he even picked it up, the blond knew what it would say. His parents were called out for business. Again. They would be gone for a few weeks. Again. There was money for his food in the envelope on the table. Again. Be good. He didn’t even read the letter this time, opting to just check the envelope to see how much they left. That was usually the indication of how long they would be gone.

There was a lot more than usual in there. For a brief moment, he wondered if they were leaving for good. It wasn’t as if they had any reason to come back. One foster kid they didn’t really care about, a tiny house that looked like it had never been furnished beyond the necessities. That was it. That was their life in Insomnia. Loneliness started to bubble up in his chest. This happened all the time, them leaving for work somewhere else, anywhere else. But this time he really wished they hadn’t.

He wanted to crawl into someone’s arms and cry. He wanted there to be someone to tell him that it was okay, that he wasn’t alone, that it would get better. But instead, he sat in an empty kitchen with nothing more than a hastily typed letter and a pile of money. There was no one there to hug him and pet his hair like he saw on TV sometimes. Maybe parents like that didn’t really exist. But he wished they did.

After sitting at the empty table long enough for the sun to go down, the blond finally forced himself to stand. Everything hurt even worse than it did before, his pain buoyed in his chest by the heavy weight of an emotion he didn’t want to name. He knew what it was, loneliness, isolation, feeling like the only people that were supposed to care about him abandoned him. But if he gave into that emotion then he knew there was no coming back. So instead he just nodded to himself with a huff. He needed to clean up and go to bed. Tomorrow was another day.


End file.
